Oishi brings Boston into the world of innovative sushi. This is an unusual role for a nine-seat sushi bar with one table and a lot of take-out business. You could drive by a lot of times without knowing that there are three chefs and sometimes a cook in the back kitchen, which is actually larger than the seating area. All this staff has a pretty good time cutting sushi to order, and keeping track of customer-invented specials like " Jeff’s Maki, " " Brad’s Torch Maki, " and " Joe’s Kazan Maki. " Internet sushi-philes have a running debate about whether or not Oishi is as good as Nobu in New York. It’s probably not, but it’s awfully good, and has a friendly intimacy you just don’t get elsewhere. Since it’s much too small for Phoenix readers to rush into all at once, I’m going to suggest you save your visit for a time when you actually happen to be in Chestnut Hill, perhaps visiting a mall. (You can also visit the sister restaurant, Oishi Too Sushi Bar, at Mill Village in Sudbury.)
That settled, your instructions when you get to Oishi are to have the customer-denominated sushi and sashimi, and to chat up the chef, Ting San. Well, okay, you might deviate with something like a seafood udon ($12.98), a truly glowing giant bowl of thick noodles with a delicate broth infused with shiitake mushrooms, scallops, shrimp, two kinds of fish sausage, and a little squid. The bargain vegetarian version is Kinoko soup ($5.75 for two) — the same bowl with a spicier broth and some extra mushrooms, cabbage, daikon, and fresh tomato slices to replace the seafood.
And you certainly wouldn’t regret a sampler like the sushi-sashimi combination ($26.25). The sashimi is three slices each of truly rich and meaty dark tuna, beautifully cut salmon, and stripy yellowtail belly, each in a big leaf of shiso — the green leaf that tastes like citrus and sage. Shiso is also wrapped, with a little nori seaweed paper, around the squid finger sushi, a jewel among the usual cooked shrimp, broiled eel, salmon, and tuna. And the six little tuna rolls — tekka maki to the initiated — that fill out the platter are suitably fresh. (Serious eel-lovers are hereby directed to the Una-ju ($13.50), simply a heap of eel on a big bowl of sushi rice.)
Based on this assortment, and on luncheon samplers like the maki special ($8.75) and the sushi special ($9.95), I can assure you that the standard sushi and maki are made with an extra freshness and subtlety that recommends custom sushi and sashimi.
But then it gets creative. Jeff’s Maki ($8.95) starts with six California rolls, which are then covered with a mixture of crabmeat and spicy mayonnaise, and run under the grill. This is everything we don’t usually get from Japanese food — creamy richness, bursts of spicy flavor, and a delicious gooey mess. The only secret I understand is the spicy mayonnaise. Because mayonnaise is an oil-in-water emulsion, the vinegar-soluble flavors are separated from the oil-soluble flavors, and the vinegar-soluble part of hot peppers is better than the oil-soluble part. You could predict this from the number of hot-pepper vinegars versus the number of hot-pepper oils on sale in any serious hot-sauce department. (Vinaigrette, which is a water-in-oil emulsion, works the opposite way, and garlic salad dressings similarly outnumber garlic mayonnaises.) But Ting San and " Jeff " have worked all this out for you.
Elsewhere on the standard menu, shumai ($4.25) are the scallop-shaped Japanese answer to dim sum, six bits of fried or steamed dumpling with a hint of starch to bring out the seafood flavor. A seafood-tempura appetizer ($12.50) is a little bready, but remarkably, it’s all seafood: two shrimp, two slices of skin-on salmon, four scallops, and the surprise hit — phony crab, which fries up into a delectable morsel. It’s presented on a fan of fried spaghetti, which you can eat.
Seaweed salad ($6.50) is subtle and fresh, a symphony of crunch and gelatin and emerald tones, with a bit of sesame, soy, and hot pepper for flavor. Entrées are served with a good white miso soup and one of those iceberg salads with gingery dressing. You have to order green tea (75 cents), but you’ll get a bottomless cup of thin, spinachy stuff. Water is refilled frequently, and soda is available.
Oishi is also the only sushi bar I’ve ever been to that serves an interesting dessert: an off-the-menu pear coated with chocolate that you’ll have to talk back onto the menu. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even get your name affixed to it.
Service generally is excellent; in a place so small, you’re always near a waiter. What’s important is that you are always within earshot of the chef. You can also see what the chefs do, both in making sushi and sashimi on the spot, and in the busy work they do in quieter times. On both of my visits, cucumbers were being peeled by a little rolling machine. The peels wrap around certain sushi, while the centers are sliced under seaweed salads. Every so often, the machine wouldn’t peel a cuke correctly, so the chef would take it out and do it by hand with a long knife.
The thing to do at Oishi is not to act like a restaurant critic and order a few assortments, then write the story. This is a place to sit at the bar and have a little of this, and maybe later some of that. To banter with the chef. To become a regular and develop some favorites. Maybe even have your own maki posted on the white board.
Robert Nadeau can be reached at RobtNadeau@aol.com.
